Sin City
by Madame Marvelous
Summary: When Thor brings Loki back to Asgard, Odin Allfather punishes Loki in the same manner that he punished his firstborn, hoping for similar results. Exiled to Earth in a mortal body without his magic, Loki must establish a life in the harshness of Las Vegas, the infamous City of Sin. Can the Outcast Prince of Asgard ever hope to return home? * Later inclusion of OC, NO pairing! *
1. Prologue

Loki stomped up the stairs to his mediocre apartment and threw the door open with rage. Every bone in his body ached in pain. It took everything he had to keep from screaming and waking up his neighbors. With heavy steps he dragged himself into the bathroom and flicked on the light to examine the damage. It was even worse than he had imagined. There were multiple cuts on his face – a couple on his forehead, one on his right cheek, another that split his lip and a fierce knick on the bridge of his nose. The tenderness of his skin told him a small bruise would probably form underneath his collar bone by the next morning. At least he would be fortunate enough to escape free of any black eyes.

_God damn this world_, he thought as he turned the sink on and dampened a washrag. He blotted all of the wounds on his face in an effort to alleviate the blood. _And damn this mortal body just the same. Nothing good will ever come of this._ His cold eyes glared his pathetic reflection with intense self-hatred. _Odin, you have gone too far_.

This curse was becoming too much for the weakened Loki to handle. Everything about his mortal life was a nightmare. Even if he did manage to have a good day here and there fate seemed hell-bent on making sure the next day would carry twice the anguish with it. This was the final straw. Some mortal man had beaten Loki to a pulp on his way home in the most humiliating way. Stripped of all his powers and godly attributes, Loki was completely defenseless against the assault from start to finish. Did Odin honestly expect anything positive to come from this blasted exile? Thor had managed to go through some kind of revelation in a couple of days. Loki had been banished for a month with minimal progress at best. As usual, Loki couldn't best Thor.

The Asgardian threw the bloodstained washrag into the sink and dragged his feet over to his bedroom. He jerked his work attire off without much care to fold it and threw himself onto the bed with a groan. For the first time during his exile the outcast began to cry. He pulled one of his pillows into his chest and clung to it as if it were another person. Sobbing into the pillow, he began to lose all hope in ever getting his life together.

"What do you want from me, Odin?" he cried out in between sobs. "Is this not enough for you?"

Turning over on his back, pillow still clutched to his chest, Loki concentrated on slowing his tears. The weight of his loneliness was beginning to bear down on him and crush him where he lay. The will to wake up and go through the motions of another day tomorrow was enough to make him nauseous. Still, he knew it had to be done. As soon as his tears had ceased, Loki released the pillow and drifted off to sleep in the heart of what Midgardians called Sin City. Oh, how sinful it was.


	2. The Pharaoh's Kingdom

"_Loki Odinson… you have betrayed the express command of your king. Through your arrogance and stupidity, you exposed a peaceful and innocent realm to the horror and desolation of war! You are unworthy of these realms! You're unworthy of your title! You are unworthy… of the love of those you have betrayed! I now take from you your power! In the name of my father and his father before me, I, Odin Allfather, cast you out!"_

The Allfather's words echoed throughout Loki's consciousness as he spiraled through the wormhole en route to Midgard. Over and over again the word "unworthy" bounced around like the chorus to a bad song, refusing to leave his thoughts no matter how hard he tried. Thor had protested, had tried, begged, pleaded, fell on his knees screaming at his father to reconsider.

"There _must _be another way!" Thor cried. "Please father, he knowest not what he does!"

"My son, you try too hard to see light where there is only dark." Odin was fuming mad and completely solidified on his decision. "Loki must be taught the invaluable lessons you once acquired yourself from exile! There shall be no further debate!"

"BUT—"

"No further debate!" Odin reiterated with ferocity.

Loki was bound up like a prisoner, restraints wrapped around the whole of his torso to keep his hands clamped down. His mouth was covered in the familiar muzzle, leaving him with no voice in a conversation about his own fate. Two of Odin's personal guards flanked the Asgardian criminal and kept him on his knees. His cool gaze merely stared down at the ground. He just couldn't bring himself to look either Thor or Odin in the eyes.

With his angry parting speech much akin to the one he had delivered to Thor, Odin conjured a mass amount of dark energy and sent Loki spiraling through the cosmos with violent speed. The journey was less instantaneous than the mighty Bifrost would have made it, giving Loki a few seconds too many to absorb everything that had just happened.

Breaking through Earth's atmosphere, Loki found himself tumbling towards what he could only hope was soft ground. It was monochrome and bland, a disgusting sight indeed. Impacting the surface, he discovered the boring swatch to be that of a desert. _Perfect_, he thought in agony, _I'm in the middle of bloody nowhere._

The word "unworthy" still stuck with him in a horrific chorus as he got to his feet and brushed the sand off of his bland clothing. Odin had stripped him of his armor but that much was expected. Left with a grey t-shirt and black slacks, Loki found himself wandering about the Mojave Desert without much sense or purpose of direction. He struggled to get his mind off of the Allfather's words and onto something more productive that would help him get out of the barren wasteland. It was a struggle made in vain.

Countless hours ticked on by as he trudged through the blazing hot desert. About three hours into the solitude he began talking to himself, half of his derangement from the lack of civilization and the other half from the disgustingly hot temperature.

"Is this your master plan?" he shouted at the sky as if Odin could hear him. A disturbing laugh escaped his lips. "Oh, you clever bastard! I feel revolutionized already!"

Seething with sarcasm, Loki pressed on until nightfall and welcomed the chills that came with it. The desert had cooled down significantly with the setting of the sun. After the length of the day Loki deduced that he hated the sun with a passion and would be sure to destroy it in some fashion when he escaped from this foolish exile.

By the time his eyes came across the infamous city he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. Could that really be civilization at last, in the middle of all this wasteland? He began dashing through the sand – a feat that required quite a lot of effort – not stopping until his feet finally hit pavement. Wandering through alleys and bounding from street to street, his heart pounded in excitement and relief. _Life, at last! _It was only a matter of minutes before he found himself in the middle of the infamous Las Vegas Strip.

He stood dead center in the road and stared at all the fanfare before him. Gigantic buildings, flashing lights of every color, people running around in everything from baggy street clothes to the finest luxury ware money could buy. Music and chatter poured out of every single street corner. He had sure as hell found civilization, alright.

The angry honk of a car horn from behind him jerked Loki out of his stupor. He whipped around in shock, quickly stepping onto the sidewalk to let the flow of traffic resume. Vehicles of every kind whizzed by – clunky old Station Wagons, bulky Hummers, sleek limousines and everything in between. _Just what kind of city is this anyway?_ he wondered in confusion as he wiggled his way through the bustling throngs. He made his way inside one of the buildings, a luxurious casino, and became hypnotized once more. It was all the excitement of the outside but intensified. More lights, more colors, bells and whistles sounded everywhere. There were clinks and clanks, cheers and jeers, screams of pleasure and screams of pain. Sweet jazz music poured out of the bar lounge not too far ahead of him. It was perhaps the strangest mix of sounds he had ever heard.

"Where am I?" he asked quietly to himself in astonishment.

A drunken elderly man stumbled over to him and decided to take on the responsibility of answering his question. "You're in Sin City, m'boy!" he shouted a bit too loudly. Loki winced. "The one and only Las Vegas, Nevada!"

"Las Vegas?" Loki made a face and decided to prod the drunkard for more info. "How does one make a living in this town, old man?"

The man hiccupped before speaking. "Oh, that's easy! You just win, and win _big_!" He waved his arms around in the air, wafting the unpleasant smell of whiskey straight towards Loki's nose. "This is the biggest playground on earth!"

"This city is about winning?" The Asgardian had to smirk at that. It was a notion he could warm up to rather quickly. "Who is it I must conquer to win?"

"Take your pick!" The old man motioned one shaky hand at the plethora of games before them. "Slots, blackjack, poker, roulette, craps, the list goes on and on!" He hiccupped yet again. "Any of them's just as much a beast as the next!"

"Wait… are these _games?_" Loki narrowed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "You don't mean to tell me this is a city of gamblers."

"The one and only!" The old man spun around, stumbling in his own movements. "Take a chance and live like there's no tomorrow! That's how I fancy it myself."

"Yes, I can _see_ that." Now Loki was rather unamused. The captivating flashiness of the city quickly faded from him fast. "Being as I do not have any money to waste away in these foolish endeavors, how can I make a _real _living here?"

The drunkie was about to answer him with another line of rubbish when a younger gentleman who was most likely his son came over to meet him. He grabbed the elderly male by the shoulders to steady him and gave an apologetic look Loki's way.

"I'm sorry, my father's big on living his life out of a bottle," confessed the embarrassed man. "I hope he wasn't too annoying."

"Don't worry about it," muttered the Asgardian while waving the man off with one hand. "He was only feeding me dribble. I have pressing questions that demand true answers."

"Maybe I can help?" The man whistled and a couple severely dressed bodyguards came over to tend to the drunkard. Another bodyguard stood next to the younger male. Loki took the time to realize how well the stranger was dressed and kept, clearly someone of wealth and importance. "The name's Bernard Pharaoh." He extended a hand for a shake.

Loki shook the man's hand with slight hesitation. In all his scanning about he had caught the phrase _Pharaoh's Kingdom _around several places inside the building. "Are you the king in these parts?" he asked cautiously.

Bernard laughed haughtily at that and nodded. "Yes, this is my casino." He was surprisingly quick to move on from the topic, more humble than prideful for a man of his stature. "What is it you were seeking help with, exactly?"

Loki decided to play it cool. Bernard could be an invaluable resource if he handled this moment right. "I just got into town but I'm not much of a gambler," he stated almost too innocently. "I was trying to figure out how to make a living here."

Bernard quirked a brow at the Asgardian but offered what advice he could. "Depends what kind of living you're looking for. I'm afraid the hotel-casino business around here isn't the kind of thing any fella can just break into. But if you're looking for regular wage work on the other hand, perhaps I could help."

_Of course_, thought Loki, _work for money, buy living arrangements, so on and so forth. This is nothing too complex. _"I would be most gracious if you could set me up with something." The Asgardian was not usually one for expressing gratitude but he was incredibly skilled at getting what he wanted. As long as he could draw a distinct line between the two it just boiled down to a matter of acting the part. Please and thank you could suddenly become part of his vocabulary this way.

Bernard ran one hand into his blonde hair and pondered the idea for a moment. "Say, can you deal worth a damn?"

"With all due respect, I believe I am the best dealer that ever was." The words came out of Loki's mouth before he could stop them. He assumed Bernard meant dealing cards. There were games on Asgard just as there were in Midgard, but he didn't know the first thing about any Midgardian card games.

"Fantastic! We're a guy short on the blackjack tables these days. Lucile?" Bernard turned to herald over a tall blonde vixen clad in a gorgeous red dress. "Lucile, honey, could you escort this young man here to the screening rooms? I want to get him out on the tables."

"You got it, babe." Lucile gave a wink at Loki and beckoned him with one wiggling finger. "Follow me, cutie."


	3. Life Shall Carry On

_**Quick Note**_

**I'm sorry if it seems these chapters are rather short! I want to give this premise justice and I figured rushing Loki's acclamation to Vegas life in a paragraph would seem kind of sketchy. I'm trying to break it down smoothly~**

Just to clarify – the events of the prologue take place ONE MONTH after his arrival. This chapter takes place TWO WEEKS after his arrival. It'll circle back!

**Please don't hesitate to leave a review! I accept all criticism. :)**

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_**Two Weeks Later…**_

Loki had even impressed himself with how he had managed achieving this much. Through a web of carefully constructed lies, he had managed to skirt around a lot of legal confusion that came from his lack of "existence" in government records. Without such mandatory human assets like a social security number, it took some severe flipping of his silver tongue to worm his way into both employment and a residence contract at his crappy apartment complex. The God of Lies was thrilled to at least know he could rely on his personality in this strange mortal city.

His confusion as to why they called Vegas "Sin City" was answered quicker than he could blink. Every imaginable facet of poor human quality exhibited itself here. People gambled away more than they owned, relinquishing ownership papers for vehicles or deeds to their houses for one more shot at the "big money". Then there were those who practically lived out of the bars, using alcohol as a numbing mechanism to dull them to the pathetic lives they lived. Apart from them were the sexual deviants, those who prowled the clubs and tried to pick up women. If they were met with no success they would visit strip clubs instead and pay women to give them their precious attention. Even the rich had their fair share of sin here. They would talk pretentiously and gamble away precious amounts of money that could be better suited funding a charity somewhere. As repulsive as all of these people were, it was only scratching the surface. It seemed each day brought with it a new discovery about human nature. Sin City was truly the watering hole for the most reckless, irresponsible and desolate people Midgard had to offer… or so Loki had figured it to be.

His keen intelligence had allowed him to pick up the fairly simple game of blackjack in no time flat. He went from dealing at cheap $5 dollar tables to entertaining the high rollers within the span of two weeks. There was something about his mysterious appearance that made him popular amongst the ladies, and something about his cool sense of humor that made him equally popular amongst the men. Bernard Pharaoh had witnessed Loki's ability to draw in a good crowd and wanted to attach him to better money. Thus, his first night at the high roller table began. The minimum bet was $5,000 dollars. Having come to understand the value of an America dollar through his paychecks, Loki was personally disgusted to watch these people toss around such money as if it were nothing.

The second his shift was over, Loki made a beeline for the Nile Delta, the most tame bar in Bernard's casino. He refused to waste away his life like the drunkards did. But after a night like tonight, Loki greatly welcomed the gifts of alcohol and promptly ordered a rum and coke. He stirred the straw in his drink mindlessly, only looking up when a peculiar woman sat down on the stool next to his.

"I'll take an apple martini, darling." She spoke in a snobby tone much akin to the women from Loki's high roller table. The sound of her voice made the demigod audibly groan. The woman shot him a strange look and scowled. "Excuse me, you got a problem here?"

Loki raised his eyebrows in surprise. Had he truly been that loud? "My apologies, oh _rich _one," he sneered back at her. He was in no mood to humor the mortals any longer. Not tonight, anyhow.

"Jealous much?" The young woman smirked before accepting her drink from the bartender. She sipped it slowly, her eyes still locked on Loki. "Nice mane, by the way. The 1980's called, they want their hair back."

"1980's?" Loki scoffed at her snide remark, subconsciously drawing one hand to his long hair. Perhaps he should consider getting it cut. "Who declared you the supreme authority on all things fashionable?"

"The majority of Earth, actually. Let's see… _Elle, Vogue, Marie Claire, Glamour_… the list goes on, darling." This strange woman could not have been a day over twenty, yet she had amassed quite the reputation for herself. Extending one bangle studded hand out to Loki, she winked at him in introduction. "The name's Lila Foxworth. Consider yourself charmed."

Loki batted her hand away and sipped some of his drink. _Pfft, charmed indeed. I've met kinder creatures in the frozen wastelands of Jotunheim you wench. _He tried to pay the woman as little attention as possible but she was rather hell bent on doing the opposite.

"Well aren't you rude!" she snapped at him. "For someone graced with your good looks you'd think you'd have a little more charisma than this. What a pity."

Thoroughly annoyed with her, Loki finally turned to give this Lila Foxworth his full attention. Rude or not, he at least had to admit she was beautiful. Her raven hair complimented her dark tan skin tone nicely though her attire left much to be desired. Clad in some sort of elegant jewel-covered cocktail dress, she sparkled like the million dollar chandeliers that dotted the casino ceiling. It would have been gorgeous if it weren't for her poor choice in accessories. She looked awfully strange with a feather studded headband and earrings to match. For someone who was supposed to be the premier name in fashion, he had to roll his eyes at her terrible taste.

"You shouldn't judge people by their appearances, Miss Foxworth." Loki gave a peculiar stare her way accompanied by one of his signature smirks. "You never quite know who you might be talking to."

"Oh, don't tell me I'm in the company of fellow fame now!" Lila's words were full of obvious sarcasm. Loki was still dressed in his dealer's uniform, the phrase _Pharaoh's Kingdom_ embroidered right above his name tag. "What kind of name is Loki Laufeyson, anyway?"

The demigod groaned, knowing full well she had been staring at his uniform. "It is _Asgardian_, thank you very much."

"Asgardian? What, is that like European or something?" Lila figured he was probably from some small third world country somewhere across the sea with a name like that.

"_Yes_," Loki lied with bold impatience. Each word came out with its own forced pronunciation. "It is _European_." He practically spat that last word at her.

"Oh, a foreigner like myself I see!" Lila twisted a single strand of her raven hair. "Born to an English family though I was raised in Paris – I consider myself native to both lands."

"And yet you speak with an American accent," replied Loki flatly. Something about this woman was rubbing him the wrong way. _Why do I get the strange suspicion she's feeding me a line of bullshit?_

Lila seemed a bit taken back by his remark. "Oh, yes… well…" She played with one of the feathers from her earrings and diverted her gaze from him for a moment. "I've spent quite a lot of time living and working in New York City so I suppose I've become assimilated."

"A lot of time you say?" Picking apart lies was one of Loki's fortes. Just as easily as he spun them, he unraveled those of others in the same hand. "You are quite a young woman. You're what, nineteen? Twenty? And yet you've worked in New York long enough to lose the accent from your upbringing? My, my, my… how strange indeed."

The coy smirk on his face made Lila livid. "For the record, _Loki_, I'm twenty-two. I couldn't drink in public if I were that young. And I've been a big name in this industry for years! My first award winning show was in Milan when I was merely fifteen!"

_She's fishing for facts out of desperation. This is surely some ruse. If this is some sort of con-woman I am not going to fall for her trickery. Sorry to disappoint you, Lila_.

"My mistake," he confessed sarcastically before getting up to leave. He felt another one of those pesky mortal headaches coming on. "I bid you adieu Miss Foxworth. I hope you find someone more cultured to defecate on with your attitude."

"Why, I never!" Lila folded her arms and scowled at Loki, her eyes trained on him until he was out of sight entirely.

The Asgardian exited the casino walked down a nearby ally that connected to a less busy side street parallel to The Strip. He kept his hands in his pants pockets, unable to get his mind off of the strange woman from the bar. _What was her problem, anyway? _He thought to himself in anger. _Why does she give me such a weird sensation? _There was something about her that really did agitate him but by the time he made it back to his apartment complex he could honestly care less. He dragged himself all the way up to the sixth floor and went straight from the front door to his bedroom. Tossing himself onto the bed, he tried to forget about everything and just focus on the task at hand.

_How am I supposed to get home? _Loki played with the archaic flip phone he had purchased last week and sighed as he scrolled through his short contact list. _Suppose there is no one I can text for advice on the matter. _Having to keep the truth about Asgard a secret was obnoxious. Had Thor been forced to tread so lightly in his conversations too?

"I bet he never faced any difficulties," spat Loki aloud as he tossed his cell phone across the room. "I should be home by now!" Glaring at his ceiling as if it were Odin, Loki verbally rampaged onward. "I have a _pathetic _subservient job! I have established residence at this dump of a complex! What more do you wish of me?"

Loki had no idea how truly far off base he was with his mission. Building relationships and learning the value of others' lives was what Odin expected of his younger son. It was the one thing Loki had not even slightly managed in the two weeks he lived in Vegas. To have a genuine conversation with someone, to make a genuine friend… that was all he needed to do. If only the outcast Asgardian would give the mortals a chance.

_Pathetic creatures, all of them! _He would always think. _Such primitive scum!_

Eventually Loki found himself tired enough to pass out on his bed but sleep did not treat him well. Nightmare after nightmare kept him up consistently. Sometimes he was forced to revisit Odin's confession as to his parentage. Finding out he was a Jotun was hard enough the first time around. Other times his nightmares had the Avengers humiliating him beyond all reason. Worse yet, his least favorite nightmare had Odin screaming at him, calling him a disappointment and failure, a bastard son that no one would want.

_I am doomed to die alone, _he thought sullenly after his fourth nightmare shook him to his core. _No one shall know of my passing. No one shall mourn. Life shall just carry on._

With a heavy sigh, Loki dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He then sat down on the tile flooring, his back against the edge of the tub. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he rested his head atop them and remained curled up in a lonesome silence for the rest of the night.

In a depressed whisper het let out, "Indeed, life shall just carry on."


End file.
